Epiphany
by FallenStar2
Summary: After her death, Anya must bargain for her soul and complete one final task before resting in peace. Sequel to Epitaph.
1. Between Heaven and Hell

**Epiphany**

Summary: After her death, Anya must bargain for her soul and complete one final task before  resting in peace. Sequel to Epitaph. Answer to the Anya-in-the-Afterlife challenge by  Sophie.

Grand Summary: After Anya was killed in "Chosen", her soul remains in limbo between Heaven  and Hell. Anya must bargain for her soul back and is given the task to go to a demon  underworld and restore order there, thus completing the circle of her existence. Little  does she know it's a reverse universe from the one she'd grown to love and it will take  every ounce of her being to see it done. After years of following the Slayer and the true  hero, it's her turn now. Because her world is about to change. Forever. Again.

Introducing new characters, new worlds and a new alternate reality.

Disclaimer: I don't own Joss Whedon. I wish I had some say in what happened during Buffy,  but I must admit I'm just a fan borrowing characters.

Ratings: PG-13 for violence, bloodshed, that type.

This will alternate between first and third person. I promise the first person POVs will be  few and far between, but they're more personal this way.

- - - - -

**Chapter 1**

**Between Heaven and Hell**

Prologue

- - - - -

Every time I looked at the stars, I imagined that someday I'd be soaring among them. 

I had no idea that those same stars, which twinkled for each of the thousand and twenty  four years of my existence, would be deciding my fate.

I don't remember how it felt to die. I just know that one moment I was there with a sword  in my hand, wondering if I really should use that nerdy Andrew as a human shield, and the  next I was floating above my own body.

Whoever said there is a light when your time has come wasn't lying. I felt it shining upon  me, mocking me as my life flashed on all of those horrible things I'd done.

And then it hit me.

I was going to Hell.

But no, I thought. This cannot be. I did good in this world. I don't deserve Hell. I tried  to work toward Heaven. Any Heaven.

But my body was broken and weak. The light was starting to fade and my body was being  covered by debris.

What do I do? What do I do?

One thousand and twenty four years and all I could do was sit there and ponder my  situation. If I was back in the old magic shop, I would have bargained my soul and sold it  for something... good. Like eternity in a nice quiet resting place where I could hum and  string harps with angels.

But that didn't look like it was happening.

Was I going to have to fight to get into Heaven? Was I going to have to die again?

It hurt bad enough the first time! Didn't those Bringers know that I was once like them,  blind to everything good and pure?

I am a good person. I really really am. I can't be in hell. I don't deserve it.

Yet my pleas fall on ears closed.

I was a vengeance demon, I know! But I'm good now. I promise to be good.

You've had your chance, my conscience tells me. 

And there I am, standing on the gateway. The scenes below have faded, but judging by the  sounds of glass shattering and the earth rumbling, the little Slayer and her merry band of  cannon fodder have once again thwarted evil's big plan.

So here I am at the gateway. To my left is a beautiful pearly gate, just like everyone had  always made me believe. A pearly gate with the beautiful music and vast blue on the  horizon.

To my right is another pearly gate, sheltered in flames.

And around me, more portals are opening. The human existence falls away as hundreds,  thousands of gates open around me.

One could get claustrophobic trapped in here.

Did I have a choice? I wanted the place where I could be happy and know I had something  complete.

But that gate was fading into the background.

What did I have to do to get into that one gate?

It was time to do what I was best at.

It was time to bargain.

- - - - -

To be continued…

Chapter 2 – Anya bargains for her soul and is given an opportunity too great to turn down.


	2. Bargaining

I do promise to update more regularly than this. It just took forever for my beta to let  these go. Her excuse? "How do you do it?"

It's not easy living with people who actually like to read things.

Anyway, two quick questions, adopted from my last fic, and then I'm jumping in.

Are there any cannon characters in this?

Yes, they're all here. Well, in one form or another. I do promise Buffy, Willow, Xander and  Spike. It will be a sort of crossover because Angel, Wesley and Cordy will be making  appearances too. Along with Anya's old demon buddies. But remember, this isn't an alternate  reality, persay. It's a demonic underworld. Expect nothing.

Will Anya come back to life?

Read on... she's bargaining for her soul, because she's done so many bad things, she needs  to tip the scale to good. But, being Anya, things sometimes have a strange twist on them.

Once again, 1st POV. Expect about two chapters per week. I'm planning on about 20 now,  believe it or not. It may change, depending on how busy my last semester gets.

Disclaimer - See Chapter 1

- - - - -

**Chapter 2**

**Bargaining**

- - - - -

It took forever for that little elevator to shoot into the clouds. I heard death was  supposed to be a peaceful journey.

That elevator was anything but. That thing was so rickety I felt like vomiting on the  perfect golden floor panels.

Except dead people don't vomit.

It's just my fate.

Once I'd left that abonimable cage, I looked around. It wasn't exactly Heaven. It wasn't  exactly Hell either. The only difference was, I wasn't alone. Not anymore.

Seeing someone at a table, I rushed over. "Hi!" I said, giving my perkiest wave. "I'm Anya  --"

"Aud," the man said behind the desk, folding his hands and glancing at me with unblinking  eyes. "I believe your name, before you became a - a demon... was Aud."

I closed my mouth. "Yes," I grumbled.

"Why were you taken from the gateway, you ask?" he continued, rising and lifting the sole  object on the table, the clipboard. "Because we still have no idea what to do with you. You  go away and get yourself really, really dead. For over a thousand years, we had no idea  where to put you. Hell seems like the perfect choice..."

"What? Hell?" I gasped. He had to be kidding me. "But I did good things. I'm a woman now.  Women don't go to scary firey hellholes. They deserve better."

"What makes you think you deserve any less than what you had given during your millenia as  a demon?" he demanded, crossing his arms. 

I tried to look away, since he wouldn't stop looking at me. Why was he looking at me? "I've  changed. I'm sure that if you read up on my life's history on that little board of yours,  you'd see that."

"Do you not know who I am?" he asked, his voice taking on a different tone. It was almost  mocking.

"No," I said, crossing my own arms. 

"I was the man you decided had wronged his wife by taking another," he said, his eyes now  sparkling with bemusement. "You had me cannibalize myself."

"Oh," I said with a wince, remembering. "Right."

He chuckled, tossing the clipboard away. Instead of landing at the foggy ground near our  feet, I saw it falling thousands below us.

Gulping, I turned back to him. "What is to become of me now?"

"I figured I would have you cannibalize yourself, but then I decided that it wouldn't be  nearly painful enough," he said, narrowing his eyes slightly in thought. "So then I  figured, why not stick you inside ancient Greece and have you spend a miserable fifty years  as a little slave girl. But that wasn't cruel enough. I needed something more. Something at  your... heart..."

Oh no. This wasn't going to be anything like I'd expected. I was expecting harps and  trumpets and fanfares and parades in my honor.

What else could he come up with?

"Surely I can help you decide something," I said suggestively. "I have been known for...  random thoughts."

He started laughing, further giving me the distinct feeling that he really was going to  make me suffer.

"Please," I begged. "I'm begging. You see me? I never beg!"

His laughter stopped and his eyes suddenly turned cold. "I begged too, or don't you  remember? I begged and pleaded for your mercy and yet all you did was laugh and toast to  your own successes as I was gnawing myself to death. Did you stop at all to think that what  you were doing was so wrong? Did you even consider my children? My wife? Or was all of your  thoughts on your daily quota of male suffrages? You are nothing but a conniving, heartless,  worthless wretch... that ogre of a husband of yours should have killed you when he had the  chance."

Enough was enough. I drew up to my full height and felt my courage returning in drones. "If  you hadn't noticed, my only motivation was to right the wrongs of man. You cheated on your  wife with a bloody servant! How do you think you would have decided your fate in my shoes?  You were a butcher. You butchered your own life pretty well, don't you think? God!"

His eyes had suddenly lit up as though he'd realized something. "Right then... right..."

A sense of dread dropped like an anvil to the pit that had once been my stomach. "Uh..."

"Your fate has been decided!" he said, sounding thrilled. "My makers will be most pleased  when they hear of this decision."

"What decision?" I asked, insulted.

"You said that you righted the wrongs of mankind," he said, smirking now, his eyes glowing  with malice. "It's time you rectify the situation. There's the demon underground portal of  Dementhos."

"Yeah," I said, recalling something I had heard of years and years before. "That world is  chaotic, violent, murderous and always appears to be an alternate reality of--" My voice  cut off as I turned pleadingly to the man now standing there before me, a cold testament of  my old decisions. "You can't be serious."

"I am," he said, drumming his fingers against his arm as he seemed to be in thought again.  "You will go to Dementhos. You will 'rectify the wrongs of demons'."

I was frozen to my spot. "What happens when I do?"

"The world is a warzone from another dimension, Anya. It might take you thousands of years  to do that task."

"Will I be... demon? Or human?"

"You lost your humanity a long time ago, and don't even tell me that you regained a sense  of humanity. They may fight for a cause, but now you are the bloody cause. You will be  demon again, and the only way to regain your soul, your humanity, is to do what I say and  listen to my guides. You'll never be good, wholesome, pure... but you will be human again."

I nodded. "When?" I asked in a trembling voice.

"Your powers must be uncovered," he continued, as though he hadn't heard her. "And because  Dementhos does have the ability to recreate people from a previous lifetime, you might see  some familiar faces. They will not know you, but you will only know them from your past  life. Your life, your... future depends on what you do today. Do not stop until you have  proven to me that you are worthy to be in Heaven, to be made whole. Only then will you see  that you have truly come to your epiphany."

I looked up just in time to see him snap his fingers.

And then all fell to darkness.

- - - - -

To be continued...

Chapter 3 -- Anya wakes up in a new world and discovers friends from her past are not what  they seem.


	3. Bright Lights

**Title**: Epiphany

**Rating**: PG-13

**Summary**: After her death, Anya must bargain for her soul and complete one final task before resting in peace. This is a partial sequel to "Epitaph".

**Grand Summary**: When Anya died, she had to bargain to stay out of hell. Her bargaining led her to the Netherworld, known by the demons as the 'Golden City' for the high crime rate, high mortality rate and low tolerance. The only problem is, when you die in the City, your soul is permanently erased from memory - and history. Joining with the forces of two women she used to know who have also met their untimely demise, they must protect the city and seek their redemption before they are given the ultimate gift… to finally rest in peace.

**Disclaimer**: Joss Whedon owns both Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. I own my original characters. I have done just about everything to ensure they aren't Mary-Sue's or Gary-Stu's.

**Notes**: After a year, I have decided to continue this story in the same way I had started "The Guardians". This story is basically the beginning of that huge project I have devoted the past few months of my life to. It contains both demons and old characters, but only three initially. The reason why I'm starting this again is because it was nominated for this nifty award. I miss writing Anya, so this is my Anya-fix for the next few months. I haven't decided how much into "Guardians" I'll be getting into, but I really want to introduce my characters from the story. A little bit more about them is given after this chapter. I hope you enjoy and I would love any feedback, positive or negative. I can stomach both!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Bright Lights**

The sound of raindrops sounded like shattering glass to her ears. Her eyes opened to find streaked lights scattered from left to right. The rain was cold on her face as she struggled to understand what was going on. The movement caused her to cry out in pain.

Voices around her were growing closer, muttering. She could hear the footsteps closing around her.

With wet, trembling fingers, she felt her shoulder, which stung as her fingers grazed the deep wound. Glancing down, the bright lights faded to see blood scattered with the raindrops. Her fingers reached down and touched the puddle, seeing her reflection mingled with the rain and blood still flowing openly from her wound.

She blinked, struggling to understand. It was so hard. It was so hard to see anything beyond the light, the blood and the water. She could hear people around her. She could hear the gasps and the screams. She tried to shout out, to scream her own sound, but the pain was so overwhelming, she collapsed back into the puddle.

She closed her eyes and prayed it would soon be over.

x0x

Rain was coming down heavily outside. In the shade of an abandoned warehouse, a tall brunette stood gazing outside, watching as people moved quickly back and forth.

Lightning lit up overhead and thunder clapped menacingly. The woman turned to the few people inside, who were going through stacks of books and papers on the table. "Come on, hurry," she muttered, crossing her arms.

A cold wind blew through the metallic room. The woman shivered and pulled her long leather coat tighter around her.

"We're going as fast as we can," a deep, heavily-accented voice said from behind her.

"Don't let me down, Diaz," the woman said again.

Then she heard it. It was different from the other sounds she normally heard. It was a high-pitched scream.

The group behind her jumped. "What was that?" the man called Diaz asked.

"Stay here," the brunette ordered. Without waiting for a reply, she ran out into the rain. Her sharp eyes glanced left and right. The scream was close. Almost too close.

She saw a group of people shouting and talking loudly on the other side of the street. Ducking her head against the rain, she ran across the street and down the block, dread filling the pit of her stomach.

Opening up her coat, she reached for her most dependable weapon, a small tazer pistol. Pushing her way through the crowds, she came to a stop near a woman who had keeled over in a large puddle. A long river of blood ran down the street from a deep wound cut from the woman's shoulder to her abdomen.

"Oh, my God," she muttered, putting a hand to her mouth. She could hear sirens in the distance and knew that the Guard was on its way. Bending over the woman, she rolled her over and pressed her hand to the woman's neck, feeling for a pulse.

It was there, faint but steady.

"She's not dead," the brunette said in relief, quickly getting on her knees and helping the woman sit up. "Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?"

Her eyelids fluttered gently and she gazed upwards. Her mouth moved, but her lips were cracked and a thin trail of blood ran from the corner of her mouth.

"Who did this to you?" the brunette asked again over the sound of the roaring winds and the tremendous clap of thunder which shook the ground.

"She's only arrived," another female said crisply, bending down next to the brunette. She had long, dark hair pulled tightly from her face and was wearing the uniform of a hostess. "She appeared here maybe ten minutes ago."

The brunette turned to her, eyes laced with confusion. "She came here ten minutes ago and was attacked already?"

The woman made a hissing noise under her breath. "She came that way."

The brunette struggled to stand up, the hostess helping her. The blonde woman was propped between them. "We need to get her out of the street before the Guard comes."

"Agreed," the hostess said. "Can you move her to safety? I'll try and thin the crowds."

"Thank you," the brunette replied. As the hostess turned and began pushing people away, the brunette was able to drag the woman down the block and around the corner, under an awning and out of the rain.

She set the woman down heavily and glanced at her bruised face. Part of her wondered what had happened to her in the living world. The other part of her was stunned by the familiarity she felt by gazing into the woman's face.

Sirens wailed past her. The brunette glanced up as the two large trucks barreled past. Hearing the sounds of the crowd around her, she began to realize that the Guard had come in many numbers. There was the sound of utmost panic as the crowd dispersed in every direction at the sound of the shots fired into the sky. She knew the Guard was meant to pacify the otherwise nosey crowd, but usually a lot of those watchers ended up dead.

She herself should move. She was, after all, a wanted person within the City.

She heard a set of footsteps moving closer to her and stood up, holding the weapon out before her.

"Relax!" came Diaz's voice. "We need to get her across the street and away from those bastards."

The brunette nodded and after making sure the street was clear from any snipers, she and Diaz managed to get the woman across the street and locked into the warehouse. Diaz, who had scooped up the woman in his arms, was now gazing down at her in confusion. "I thought she'd been bleeding."

The brunette turned back to the woman, who was starting to stir. "Watch the street," she ordered, watching as Diaz quickly picked up his own tazer rifle and set himself in front of the old, iron-bar clad window.

"Hi," a weak voice said from below her.

The brunette turned to see the woman staring up at her through narrow eyes. "Hello."

She blonde woman struggled to move, the water coming off of her in sheets. "Too bright," she muttered, swatting the brunette away as she sat up. Her hand went to her shoulder and she glanced, stunned, to see that the wound had healed itself. "What the hell-"

"You were nearly cut in half," the standing woman replied. "But you'll be okay now. You're in a... different place."

"I'm dead, aren't I?" the woman asked bluntly, turning to stare into the face of her rescuer for the first time. It was then she noticed with recognition that she that face. "Who are you?"

"My name is Cordelia Chase," the brunette replied. "I recognize your face."

"I am... I was..." the blonde woman continued, struggling for words. "What happened to me?"

"You're dead," Cordelia replied. "You arrived here a short while ago."

The blonde woman blinked, staring at the small warehouse room, encased in metal sheets. "It's so bright... so... sharp..."

"It'll be like that for a while," Cordelia replied softly. "It always is."

The blonde stood up and glanced at her bloodstained shirt and the trail of blood on the cold metal tile. "The Bringers," she said, her gaze drawing back to her final moments. "They... they killed me."

Cordelia's head jerked up with a start as she turned to face the blonde woman. "Sunnydale."

"Sunnydale," the blonde agreed. "We were fighting the First evil... and I... I must've... the Bringers..."

"It's okay," Cordelia said, taking the woman's hand. "You're just going through shock."

"Where am I?" the blonde asked, glancing at the metallic room. Thunder clapped outside, sounding loud. There was a tall, dark-haired man standing at the only window, bouncing from foot to foot. "If I'm dead... then..."

"It sure as hell isn't Heaven," Cordelia said, taking a moment to glance around the cold room. "But it isn't Hell. It's somewhere in between."

"I'm... not in Hell?" the blonde asked hopefully. For some reason, she felt as though she should have been in Hell, but she couldn't remember why.

"No," the man by the window said. "This isn't Heaven and this isn't Hell."

The blonde sighed and stared at Cordelia. "How do... how do you know where I'm from?"

"I was from Sunnydale once," Cordelia replied. "But my history isn't important here."

"My name was Anya," the blonde finally said after a long pause.

"Your name is Anya," Cordelia replied. "You're not a Ghost. You haven't forgotten who you are, not yet."

"Will I? Forget?" Anya asked, her voice shaking slightly. She couldn't remember anything that had just happened except the fact that she'd died. She bent down and touched the blood-stained cloth that had once been her shirt. The skin underneath was untouched by any weapon and appeared to be perfectly healed. She was alive, she thought, pressing a hand to her heart and feeling it pulse beneath her fingertips. But, where the hell she was happened to be another issue entirely.

Cordelia regarded her, in her bloodstained clothes, soaking wet and dripping from the rains still lashing outside. "Not unless you give in," Cordelia replied, surprised by the bitterness in her voice.

"Give in?" Anya asked, her eyes widening, taking in more of the harsh light. "Give in to what?"

"Death," Cordelia said simply. "If you believe you are dead, you're just like any other Ghost."

"What do you hold onto?" Anya asked.

Cordelia was slightly floored by Anya's question. She'd never been asked that before. She turned away, her face full of pain. "Because there has to be a better place to spend all of eternity," she said, trying in vain to keep the bitterness from her voice. "There has to be more to the afterlife than the netherworld. There just has to be."

The words seemed to sink into Anya's head as she sat back down again, staring at the water dripping off of her. "Where is this?"

"The Golden City," Diaz replied, not taking his eyes off the street. "It's a city brimming with souls like you. Newly deceased. All murdered or killed by natural or unnatural means. They come here."

"Where is here?" Anya asked, turning to Cordelia.

"It's the Golden City," Cordelia repeated impatiently. "But it doesn't matter. You have enough time to figure out what it is on your own. We have to-"

"Guards," Diaz suddenly said, backing away from the window. "They're going door to door."

"Time to go," Cordelia said, quickly sheathing her tazer pistol and glancing at Anya. "Can you walk?"

"Yea-Yeah," Anya stammered, getting to her feet, although her knees were quivering. "Where are we going?"

"Underworld," Cordelia replied, motioning for Diaz to go to center of the room. Pushing aside the metal table and lifting up a sheet of metallic tile, there was a grate underneath.

There was a sharp rap on the rickety metal door.

"Take her," Cordelia said to Diaz, turning to face Anya. "Go with Diaz. He'll get you to the others."

"What about you?" Anya asked her.

"I'll cover," Cordelia replied, pulling out her pistol and standing up as Diaz dropped into the hole. The sound of water splashing sounded far below.

But before Anya could even position herself over the grate, the door burst open and the room filled with light. Cordelia was firing her own tazer gun just as two more red beams filled the room with even more bright light. Anya rolled over the grate, kicking the metal tile back over the hole.

Behind her, Cordelia groaned as a red light grazed her arm. As she collapsed, Anya rose up behind her, her hands in the air.

"No," Cordelia cried out, seeing the others enter into the warehouse. "No!"

"Get her," a dark male voice said as two pairs of arms reached down and pulled the wounded brunette to her feet. "Take the blonde."

Anya didn't protest as two more men entered and took her arms, leading her back out into the rain. A vehicle was slowly approaching them. It looked like a tank, but it wasn't any tank Anya had ever seen and she'd seen quite a few. It looked more like a large pickup truck with two guns positioned on top. It had a very large cab that seemed to serve as a place where the other guards were climbing into.

Cordelia and Anya were deposited roughly inside the back of the cab, their wrists quickly locked to the cold, metal seats.

"Where are they taking us?" Anya asked, fear creeping into her voice as she noticed the dark, hateful look on Cordelia's face.

"Where do you think?" she asked bitterly. "To the Tower."

"Oh," Anya said her eyes full of confusion as she struggled against the chains.

x0x

Far above the glittering city below, a tall white tower sparkled even against the gloom of the rain and lightning.

A single figure floated into a large, golden hall. Six other women in long white robes were already seated at a large table.

"The Guards have just reported," one of the woman in the dainty robes said, rising as a figure in silver walked into the room. She bowed her head quickly before continuing her report. "They have captured Cordelia Chase."

"Indeed?" the figure in silver asked as she sat down gracefully, the other woman following closely behind. "Have her brought to the Tower immediately. She must undergo questioning for the deaths of several members of the Guard."

"As you wish," a third voice called out, as a hand passed over a small orb on the table before her. It glowed white for an instant before fading. "The order has been sent."

"Then we shall wait," the silver figure said, leaning back in her chair thoughtfully. "We shall deal with it then."

x0x

"What's going to happen to us?" Anya asked as she finally stopped struggling and rested her head against the side of the moving vehicle. Every single bump jarred her already bruised body, but she refused to give in to the fear.

"I will be executed," Cordelia said evenly, not looking at her. "You will likely be held with the rest of the Ghosts."

"What exactly are these 'ghosts'?" Anya asked.

"Oh, they're the humans that manage to get their asses in trouble about three seconds after they arrive," Cordelia said in a falsely bright tone. "They're imprisoned by the Order." Before Anya could ask what the Order was, Cordelia hastily explained. "The Order is the group of witches that rule this city. It's just one of about a dozen cities in this realm, I think, but the most volatile of them all. It's where everyone goes when they need something to redeem themselves. Everyone comes here with the hopes of getting out and of getting to Heaven, but no one ever does."

There was a flash and suddenly Anya began to remember everything that had happened since her death. "Oh!" she gasped, glancing at the other woman. "Oh, God... I just remembered. He sent me here... he said that I needed to go to Dementhos."

"This is definitely Dementhos, and the Golden City is its capital."

"Lovely," Anya said dryly as she stared at the rain streaking across the sky from the back windows of the vehicle. There was a fork of lightning in the distance, but from what she could see, all of the buildings were burnt-out shells or else completely run-down. It looked like London after the Second World War, she thought. Cordelia caught her staring curiously and smirked despite her grim situation.

"Yeah, they all look the same. Everyone here is fighting over territory, supplies or both. There are different groups and different cliques you can get into, but there's only one that really wants to help people."

"That's this... Under-" She cut herself off at Cordelia's sharp look. There were still two of them in the front of the vehicle and obviously Cordelia wasn't willing to give a lot away. Anya decided not to use her usual tact and shut her mouth. It was her mouth that had brought into this situation in the first place.

"Yeah," Cordelia said sharply. "It's that. There are thousands trapped in this city. The best I can figure is that it is some sort of a demonic penal colony. There are hundreds of demonic species around, but the most we see is human or hybrid-human. I had a few hybrids working under me at one point in time, but that basically blew to hell. It'll be a sad day there before they find out where we are." The look on her face softened slightly as she recalled all of the friends and comrades she had left behind. "I hope Diaz made it back safely."

"He did," Anya said, attempting to comfort the woman despite her reservations about the fact they were now prisoners. "Don't worry about him. Let's worry about getting the heck out of here, okay?"

Cordelia opened her mouth to respond but before she could, the vehicle came to an abrupt stop. Gone were the rundown buildings and the shady streets with many loiterers. They had come to a beautiful black gate that extended twenty feet into the air with a large clasp resembling that of an eagle. It opened and the vehicle creaked through, the motorcade following closely behind. Soon, they were passing large white walls and, at last, a large structure that looked more like the ancient city of Babylon than anything else.

"What is this place?" Anya asked in a quiet voice.

"It's where the Order commands the city," Cordelia said bitterly. As the truck slowly creaked through, Anya saw the faces of many people staring back at them. Their eyes were grim and desolate, their faces desperate and hopeless. Anya felt her face fall. There were some in the many beautiful and intricate gardens, weeding and plotting soil. There were even more scrubbing the stunning white marble statues and walkways. Others still were raking the grass, tending to the many lights and doing other exterior work. There had to be a hundred people working on this in the rain, but it was then that Anya realized that it was no longer raining.

The truck had stopped and after a few moments, the door opened and both women were dragged outside. There was a loud cry as Cordelia struggled against her guards, but stood down the moment they pulled weapons.

"I'll find a way to get you out," Anya said as the guard slammed the door before taking her upper arm roughly.

"Funny," Cordelia said humorlessly. "I was about to say the same thing. You don't strike me as the Anya I knew."

"I've grown up," she admitted quietly. "I think dying changes you."

"Tell me about it," Cordelia said, but with an almighty wrench she was yanked away as one of the head guards came down from the grand staircase leading up to what looked more like the front of a museum than anything.

"Take this one to the Order," the guard said, nodding at Cordelia. "They wish to question her before they... dispose of such a waste."

Anya's jaw tightened as he talked about Cordelia. She'd heard bits and pieces about Miss Chase over the years. She had resembled nothing of the spoiled girl Anya had known in high school, but then again she'd worked with that vampire the Slayer had been attracted to all of those years ago.

"And as for this one... take her to a cell. She'll soon realize that it is far better to fend for yourself than take up trash like this."

"No," Anya moaned as they pulled her away.

She saw Cordelia watching her sadly, but Anya saw their weaponry and gave up, realizing it would be futile to die again. God only knew, she could end up in a worse place than this one.

* * *

So, this is how this ultimately begins again. In the next part, Cordelia faces off against the Order while Anya soon realizes now trapped these people really are.

After working on a six-page character analysis, here is the quickie version of my original character Emilio Diaz.

Emilio Diaz

One of the nine original Hunters, he found a badly-beaten Cordelia Chase and befriended her when all others would have rather let her die. Now at her right-hand, Diaz has always been the true fighter, but where will his allegiances lie when he discovers the truth of why he came to be in the Netherworld in the first place?

He's wise but does not trust easily. He thought he could find love with his partner, yet her cold resistance to him is beguiling, but leads their partnership to become even stronger.


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